A Game Called Murder
by AmpalayaJuice
Summary: There is a murderer lurking in the shadows of Gondor, and he has killed all but three. [Crack, sort of]
1. Chapter 1

Warning: False Advertisement, also parody. Peace be with you.

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The Festival of the Nine Walkers lasted, obviously, for nine days and it started exactly two days after Aragorn's coronation. All, from the largest, gentlest beast to the tiniest insect, were invited to Gondor to celebrate the peaceful years to come. Even Thranduil who had, until then, kept to his kingdom had come with his son's invitation. Gondor celebrated with gladness and joy.

Until on the night of the first day, the children of Elrond had invited eight of the nine walkers and three Elven Lords to a private council in the King's Quarters. The invitations arrived in a form of a rolled parchment marked with the wax seal of Gondor. _From Arwen, Queen of Gondor_ , they were signed in the common tongue with hastily-written, almost illegible penmanship. Most unlike the daughter of Elrond. They revealed nothing but instructions and the word, "immediately."

One by one they filed towards the inner chambers where the meeting was to be held. The first to come was Aragorn, who was already resting on the room just beside it. The crown had long been discarded and his hair was unkempt. The king of Gondor dragged his feet towards the living couches and slumped his tired body.

He tried not to whine. "What constitutes a council meeting at this ungodly hour, my love? Can it not wait until the sun has risen?"

But neither Arwen nor the twins answered him.

The hobbits arrived next, quite noisily, in fact. Though the noise only woke Aragorn up. Pippin still held a bowl of apples on a hand and a half-bitten one on the other. They strode nonchalantly across the room and sat beside the king.

Gimli was next to open the door and the smell of alcohol came with him. He looked almost drunk by the way he wobbled over towards the couch parallel to the hobbits', as they already occupied the length of it. But the dwarf was considerate enough to come in full armor and a battle axe in hand.

"Tell me, my lady," he said with a booming voice, "who dare threatens you in this time of peace, hm?" He swung his axe upwards, aiming at the only human present. "Is it Aragorn?"

A hand gently pushed the axe down. "There is no need for that, my friend."

Legolas, along with his father, entered the room unnoticed. He plucked the axe from Gimli's grasp without much resistance and placed by the corner of the room, far from the unwitting hands of his friend.

The prince bowed and saluted. "Fair evening to you all." He then sat beside the dwarf, much to Thranduil's disapproval.

The Elvenking, seeing as he could not _slump_ himself so carelessly upon meager couches, pulled a spare chair and positioned himself at the edge of the same couch. He bowed as far as his seated frame could bow.

Glorfindel arrived with a grumpy Elrond. Followed shortly after by Gandalf, who excused his tardiness with his usual arrival excuse. The wizard and blond Elven Lord took their seats beside Legolas, while the other Elven Lord dragged a chair beside the elven king.

The council was then complete.

"Arwen called you all here," Elladan started, snaking an arm around his brother's shoulder.

Elrohir continued the sentence, trying to be, at least, sympathetic to the rest of the occupants of the confined quarters. He was not as fine with the idea as his other siblings.

"To play a stupid game," Elrohir said simply, earning him a slight nudge from Elladan's elbow.

There was silence before a collective groan filled the room. And then an argument erupted, screams and accusations. Most directed to Arwen, who smiled at all of them like the beautiful, innocent elf she was. Elrohir was agreeing to every bit of remarks.

And then, as if to parallel the happenings during Council of Elrond so many months ago, Frodo spoke up, which surprised him. He was little now, as he was little then, among the other occupants but his voice carried over the noise. The silence was invited back.

"I think," Frodo said, "I think we should play the game."

Gandalf smiled and he took his seat. The others imitated his initiative.

The hobbit smiled. "A simple fun after all we've been through. There will be nothing to lose."

When no one spoke against the small hero, Arwen clasped her hands together in glee. "Right then, Thank you, Frodo. This game we're playing is called The Murder Game."

"I do not approve of this, love," Aragorn groaned, covering his face with a pillow.

Arwen ignored him. "One of you will become a murderer and his aim to kill as many as possible."

This was, again, met with screaming. This time, it was Elrond's voice that sounds above all else. "This is inappropriate, dear child. I will not permit it. This council must be dismissed at once."

Elrohir raised a palm to silence the audience. "It will not be a physical death. This is merely a game running with imagination. Please, let Arwen finish."

Arwen muttered a small thank you before she continued. "The murderer may begin his killing at the dawn tomorrow until dusk of the last day of the festival, eight days from this very moment."

The occupants shared a wary look at each other.

"Another one of you will be the scout," Elladan said. "It is his job to gather all the clues regarding the murderer. He may not be killed. The scout will declare his job. There will be a trial at the end of the festival. The scout shall make his claim. Arwen will serve as the judge."

"The others will be the victim, pigs to be killed for the murderer." Elrohir shrugged. He gained another elbow from his twin. "The murderer may have an accomplice, an assistant of some sort. He may not murderer directly, though he may help."

Legolas raised a hand. "How will the murderer kill?"

"Good question." Arwen answered, "There will be a murder weapon."

As if on cue, Elrohir unsheathed a dull knife from his pocket. "I will place this knife on the table outside the private quarters. The chosen murderer may take this any time."

"The murderer must present the weapon and call his victim's name before saying the words, 'I killed you'."

Elrohir made a show of wagging the blade in front of his brother as an example. "Elladan, I killed you."

Elladan, who just raised an eyebrow, continued. "There are rules to be followed, however. The victims may not tell the scout of their dealings with the murderer. The scout, however, may ask where, when, and how it happened, no more, and it is only then that the victims may speak. No names must be dropped. Strictly. Dead players may not attend any council meetings held by the scout to discuss the evidences, as all dead cannot."

The players nodded, finally considering the game.

"Now." Arwen passed a box to Aragorn, raised an eyebrow at her. "The box contains strips of parchment, each written with the roles."

Aragorn picked one and passed it to Pippin. The box came around until it fell on Elrohir's hands. He picked one.

Elladan elbowed him again. "We do not play with them."

Elrohir only shove the box to him. "The last piece is for you. I doubt it's anything other than a victim."

"I share no desire to be a scout!" Legolas shrieked, very much unlike the elf. "You all will sail prematurely to the halls of Manwe, and I may not forgive myself."

"Calm yourself, son. It is only a game."

"I have Ithilien to run." He continued to whine. Frodo was the only one to console him.

Elrond tried to calm the participants by clearing his throat. It did nothing the first time. So he enlisted Gandalf's help. The wizard gladly stomped his staff on the floor twice. The room shook a little. Silence reigned.

"I also share no desire to play," said Elrond. He walked towards platform where Arwen stood earlier. "Therefore, we must defeat this game."

Thranduil somehow procured a glass of wine from thin air. He sipped daintily. "How do you supposed to defeat this game? It is no evil."

"Nay, it is." Merry said. "It is a murder game."

"I will kill this murderer."

"That's not how the game goes, Gimli."

"Aragorn, are you the murderer?"

"If I were, I will not tell you."

Elrond cleared his throat for the second time. "We will hold council meetings in the private dining hall at 10 in the evening, sharp. Legolas will ask us one by one for the details of our death. Those who stayed alive will help him uncover this monstrous creature."

"Ah, I already hate it," Elladan said. Elrohir just smiled at him.

"Does the game grant me leave to return from the dead?" asked Glorfindel through a mouthful of apples. Pippin offered one to him a few minutes ago.

Gandalf answered him with the same patience he held for a four-year old. "No, Balrog Slayer." The words rolled with jesting mockery. "There is no coming back from the dead this time."

"Ai!" Glorfindel smiled. "The same goes for you, my friend."

Elrond squinted at all of them, because the Nine Walkers and others had been reduced to kids, bickering at each other with every chance they get. Elrond dismissed the first council meeting. All twelve of them scampered out.

"I still do not desire to be the scout."

Samwise Gamgee, the humble gardener of Frodo, sat quietly, hidden behind a pot of plant in the hallway. He had been there since second breakfast, watching with untrained eyes the round table by the doors to the king's private quarters. He knew that he's in a vulnerable situation, had the murderer come and slew him right then and there. He also knew that he was in no position to assume Legolas' role as scout. But Sam sat there anyway. It was already nearing lunch.

Gandalf and Frodo were walking along the gardens of Minas Tirith as they had nothing better to do. Frodo had been musing about the game since that morning, both excited and afraid at the same time. He had never played such a bloody game that lasted for a whole week.

"Who do you is the murderer, Gandalf?" he asked as he lifted himself to sit on one of the chairs.

Gandalf stopped walking and turned to face the hobbit. "If I would have to guess, though there is no sufficient evidence yet, I would accuse Sam."

"Sam!" Frodo exclaimed, appalled at the bold statement. "It cannot be Sam."

"Oh, dear Frodo, but he is silent during the whole meeting." Gandalf chuckled. "It's just a game."

"If it is Sam." Frodo smiled. "I would know."

"Aye, that may be true." Gandalf returned the smile with a hint of wariness. He too did not want to die so soon.

A Silvan messenger appeared from the entrance of the garden and called the white wizard. "My king, Thranduil, asks of you in the library, my lord." He bowed.

"What for?" asked Gandalf, rather surprised.

The messenger stopped for a moment, thinking, before bowing again to speak. "For important matters regarding the restoration of Eryn Galen and Ithilien, my lord." Silence, before he added. "Paper works, Mithrandir."

Gandalf shook his head. The Elvenking did not know what it means to rest. The wizard was quite sure he'd given his son a ton of paper works as well. Even his personal attendant came to Gondor for the sole purpose of making Gondor an acquaintance.

"You'll have to forgive me, Frodo," Gandalf said to the hobbit. "It seems duty calls."

The hobbit only nodded. He understood. Frodo continued walking.

The twins and Legolas were at the training grounds, competing for bragging rights. Aragorn closed it down for the elves' exclusivity during their stay. With the peaceful atmosphere for the feast, not a captain bothered.

They lined four boards along the three sides of the grounds. Each board had a sloppily drawn picture of the game's participants, courtesy of Elladan. However, not a single arrow had been shot that morning. No one had been murdered yet, and therefore all are suspects.

Elrohir nocked an arrow, though he did not release it. "I suspect." He moved his aim from the picture of Pippin towards his brother. "I suspect you, Elladan."

Elladan shrugged. "I neither agree nor disagree."

Elrohir didn't move his aim. "See. Legolas, arrest him."

The prince of Eryn Lasgalen sighed. He was not liking this game. "I could suspect you too. You have no evidence to prove me otherwise."

"I told Elladan what I've drawn from the box." Elrohir quickly turned and shot Merry's picture. The arrowhead buried up to the hilt. "Ai! My arrow says it's the hobbit."

"You might be lying," Elladan said, nocking an arrow himself and shooting at Glorfindel. "I say it's Glorfindel because the elf had been smirking all morning."

"You have not told me what you've drawn!" the other twin said, almost exclaiming.

"It will not change the course of the game."

"If I may guess." Legolas shot Aragorn. "Both of you are victims."

Elrohir nodded. Elladan kept his silence.

"Why Aragorn?"

Legolas smiled. "I have no idea."

Elrond called for the participants that night at the private quarters. Almost all of them filed within the same hour, sighing at the when their eyes saw that the knife had not been touched.

Legolas took the platform this time. He asked, rather exhausted, "I see that no one had died during the day."

All of them nodded.

"I had been thinking," the elf continued, "of a way to make this easier for everyone. I suggest that all participants should not be seen alone."

There was an ominous chatter among the crowds.

"Each one must be accompanied by at least another participant."

Sam waved a hand in the air. "Then the murderer may just kill them both!" he said, as if aghast.

Legolas considered the statement before amending his new rule. "Accompanied by another who's not playing, then. That way I would only ask the victim who he was with when the murder happened."

Sam brought his hand back down.

Legolas continued when nobody from the audience complained. "Also, please, for the love of the Valar and beyond, please stay alive."

That was how the first day of the game ended, with everyone still alive.

The second and the third day passed by without much fuss. Elrond didn't even call for a meeting on the third. On the fourth day, however, the thing the victims dreaded the most happened. The knife on the table was gone. The killing finally started.

And much to Legolas' dismay, it was his father who died first.

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A/N Who do you think the murderer is? Comment below Clue. It's not Legolas. Ha ha. This is not my first fanfic – more like my second – but it's something. Unedited, sorry. English isn't my first language, I'm really sorry. Is it good? Is it bad? Please read and review.


	2. Chapter 2

"It's too early for work, Thranduil." Galion groaned as the king dropped a pile of documents on the table. Dust flew in the air, making the royal butler cough. "Can we not get some breakfast first?"

Thranduil sat on the lone chair in front of the table and stared unbelievingly at Galion. "Why do you complain? Does it not delight you that I choose to work instead of play children games with my son?"

Galion picked up a parchment and let it unroll itself towards the floor. The paper was still crisp in his hands, almost as if this was the first time the letter had been opened. He skimmed over it, barely taking notice of the message. The signature of Lord Elrond of Rivendell at the end surprised him, however. "Is this why you are so eager to work? Because of the Lord Elrond?"

"Of course, not." Thranduil flinched before continuing with whatever he did with a pen on his hand. "Distance does not excuse me from being king, Galion. I still have to take care of people and hear their petitions."

"You're not usually this enthusiastic to work," Galion said, matter-of-factly. "You abhor paperwork, need I remind you."

"Ah, but the time has changed, my friend." Thranduil did not even look up this time, though he did not seem like he was writing. "No longer does the darkness tower over my land. We are free of any threat, thus I must concentrate on work."

Galion was having none of his king's excuses. He knew him for millennia, knew him since the king before him carried him around the court. Thranduil did not skip his morning cup of wine. Thranduil did not work, much less read petitions, at all. Thranduil did not give his butler bullshit. Most of the time.

"Wherefore the library?" Galion asked. There was something off. The butler was sure of it, and it had something to do with this game.

"Would you prefer if I work in kitchens, Galion? Quit yapping and deliver me all the document I haven't yet signed."

"It's public, Thranduil."

"I put the blame on Gondor's king. The chamber he gave me was not equipped with a study." With a raised eyebrow and tired eyes, the Elven King gave Galion the look that wilted most members of his court. "Galion. Papers. Now."

Galion trudged towards the back of the nearest bookshelf where Aragorn's servants had dropped the _documents_ moments earlier. Galion had, as requested, sifted through them in the usual categories Thranduil wanted. The biggest pile of the whole lot were the unsigned, unopened letters. Galion gathered only a handful.

"Are you scared of losing?" He shouted over the bookshelf. When Thranduil did not reply, he asked again. "Are you afraid that you would be the first to die because Legolas is the scout? It would be a very funny thought for you to die first. Imagine your son's reaction."

When Galion's head popped from the bookshelf, he found Thranduil glaring at him. The butler nodded. "I thought so."

A sound of heavy footsteps alerted the king. He stood abruptly, whirling to see who dare disturbed him.

Galion was also alarmed. He'd dropped the papers, and his hands were automatically on his sword belt, only to realize that he'd left his weapon in his own chamber.

"Your majesty." The voice that came from the direction of the footsteps were deep and husky. Galion never heard that voice call Thranduil 'your majesty' before, though he guessed Legolas had a hand in the matter.

The dwarf came into view, all clinging and clanging with the armor he never seemed to remove. "Your majesty, I came to discuss about your son."

From his angle, Galion could see the whole exchanged. He saw both of them flinched as if surprised. The cursed blade was revealed then. The voice of the murderer was so loud, so clear in the rather silent library.

"I kill you."

Galion sighed. "Ai, Elbereth."

Frodo would like to think that he was not bothered by the game. Not at all; unlike their young elf companion, who had been fretting over his being the scout since the night of the first day; unlike Sam who sat in front of the table for hours on end, his eyes never leaving the surface where the knife once stood. Even the Lord Elrond had locked himself in his chambers, stating that he had matters to attend to regarding the forming relationship of Rivendell and Gondor.

The hobbit had survived every possible darkness his worst nightmares could ever procure. Orcs, wraiths, dark lords, and rings of power. It was all worth the trouble for the brightness tomorrow brought about Middle-Earth. And yet, there was something unnatural and unsettling about this game in particular, the sense of dread and betrayal. One of his friends was out to kill him and all his other friends. The feeling did not sit well with him.

He vaguely wondered which was worse: a dear friend trying to kill you, or a dark stranger trying to enslave you. At the very least, this was all just a game, and the horror would stop at the end of the week.

The main garden of Gondor was bright on a fine midday hour, and he strolled in the company of the sweetest of flowers alone. Frodo had actually no one to accompany him who was not a participant. Lindir had his chores. Bilbo was already with the white wizard. So he was alone, though being alone made his mind wander far too off where it shouldn't be.

"Master Baggins," a voice called from behind the tree he was currently resting by.

He looked over his shoulder to see an exhausted looking Silvan elf. He'd seen the elf just twice. Once, when he arrived at Gondor with the army of Mirkwood, and another when he conversed merrily with Legolas as they walked down one of the halls. Galion was his name, the royal butler and adviser to the king of Mirkwood.

Why, of all places, was he here? Was Legolas' father the murderer and he had enlisted the help of his butler? Wasn't that a bit too... obvious?

"Mae govannen, mellon nin," Frodo said in his best Sindarin.

This elicited a smile from the elf, and he nodded curtly. "I apologize for the disturbance, Master Baggins," he said, his voice tensed and annoyed. "I'm afraid my king warrants your audience, a discussion about the arrangement for your visit to Eryn Lasgalen."

"A visit to Eryn Lasgalen?" the hobbit asked. He did not recall requesting a visit, though he had to admit it was a sound idea.

Galion rubbed the back of his neck. "It was your uncle's idea, forgive me."

Frodo chuckled. That made more sense. "Of course."

"Come, Master Baggins. We must hurry." Galion turned to leave. "My king is not in his best mood since this morning."

Galion was not considerate of Frodo's shorter legs. To the hobbit, it seemed like the Elven butler dashed off to the direction of the library. Frodo took his time, however. The mood of the king would rain down on him if he would be late.

An instinct forced him to stop at the turn of a corner into empty hallway, empty apart from a blade on the floor reflecting the rays of the sun. Frodo knew he would die first. Who else would the force of darkness annihilate first than the ring-bearer himself?

He heard the heavy footsteps before he saw the murderer.

"I kill you."

Legolas was more nervous than when he'd faced the Nazgul.

It was the night of the fifth day, and by Lord Elrond's special order, there was a meeting again in the king's private quarters. Everyone was on time, Gandalf being the last who arrived. The room was filled with both excitement and anxiety. The knife had been missing since that morning. It was not anymore a hidden fact that the murderer had started his would-be killing spree.

"Now, Legolas," Arwen started, skipping the introduction entirely. "The participants cannot speak about the detail of their murders unless you asked. Would you like to begin?"

The prince of Eryn Lasgalen nodded, just once, and made his long descent to the platform where Arwen stood.

Legolas cleared his throat. "Has anyone died?"

"You must ask them one by one." Arwen gave him a pointed look.

The prince sighed. "Aragorn?"

With a grin and wiggling of his eyebrows, the King of Gondor shook his head. "Arwen can attest. I did not once leave her side."

"Even to go the baths?" Pippin, who sat next to Aragorn, quipped.

"I'm sure they are entitled to that, Pip," Merry, the logician of the two, countered him, however.

Legolas asked them one by one, until he gasped when the last hobbit nodded.

"Frodo!" A voice, Legolas did not know whom it belonged to, cried from the audience.

Shivering, the prince asked further. "When have you died? How?"

"No names, Frodo," Arwen reminded.

"After lunch." Frodo shrugged as if it was nothing. "I was called to the library. We met on the way."

"I... I see." It was true now. The game had indeed already began. Legolas moved on to the next person. "Ada?"

"Forgive me, my son."

He'd lost all resolve at that moment. His father was out of the game, dead under his nose. Legolas felt his shoulder tensed and his hands began to shake when he asked, "When? How?"

Thranduil looked as if pained to tell his son the details of his murder. "I skipped breakfast to work, because as Galion have repeatedly reminded me on our journey here, I am behind schedule." His father was seething, and Legolas knew what that meant. Whoever the murderer was annoyed him. "I was killed then."

The prince wanted to melt into a puddle. His father's untimely death was slowly creeping up to his mind. He had not thought of his king traveling to the halls of Mandos nor sailing to the West. He wasn't crown prince for a reason. But now that the peace had come, Thranduil could very much sail at any point he wished to.

Legolas postponed any feeling that would stem from that notion.

He'd reached until the last person before anyone said 'aye' again to his question. "Gimli? Are you dead?"

"You will avenge me, right, lad?"

Legolas nodded, hesitantly. "When? How?"

"I was in the library this morning." Gimli could not meet his gaze. "He whipped the blade out and, bam, dead like a fly."

Three in one day. Legolas had to sit down. His head was swimming.

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A/N: Sooo. Who do you think is the murderer? :)) Unedited, sorry.


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